


You're Home

by oddgit



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Blood, FinchWhump, Kidnapping, Passing Out, Rescue, Running Away, Whump, swamps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 06:20:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18047177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddgit/pseuds/oddgit
Summary: Gifting this to M_E_Lover because... well she knows why. I don't even know when you're gonna see this, but I hope the whump of your favorite guy helps lift your spirits at least a teensy bit, friend.





	You're Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [M_E_Lover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_E_Lover/gifts).



> Gifting this to M_E_Lover because... well she knows why. I don't even know when you're gonna see this, but I hope the whump of your favorite guy helps lift your spirits at least a teensy bit, friend.

Harold had managed to escape. They thought they’d broken him. He was on his knees, sobbing on the floor, begging for mercy, when he’d made a run for it while they turned their backs. A few lucky breaks and he was out of the Samaritan facility and on the run.

He grasps his wounded, bleeding side and trudges on through the swamp outside. His back and hip are screaming at him. He’s not sure how much longer he can go on. He grows weary from running, weak from hunger, and is dizzy from blood loss. Heart beating faster, he plods through the muck using whatever strength he has, but the loss of blood and metal holding his frame together start making him wobbly. The cold evening air shocking his throat and lungs as he inhales deeper, faster.

Harold knows that he can’t go on for much longer, but he has to try to put as much distance as he can between him and his captors. He trudges on, growing weaker and weaker. With each footfall, a jarring pain shoots knee to hip. His breath comes in small spurts, hot and nervous.

Finally, before his legs give out, he leans back on a large tree and slumps down into the thick mud. Anxiously, he glances around, looking for any sign of his captors, and breathes a clipped sigh of relief.

He lays there, chest deep in thick mud, thoughts racing madly; his heart beats rapidly in his chest. He wipes the sweat from his forehead, exhausted. Streaks of blood and mud are left on his face.

It was nighttime. Harold’s head explodes in a very painful headache. His ears ring loudly with white noise. He shifts uncomfortably in the cold thick mud, trying to keep himself upright. He has to stay awake; he has to get up and get moving again. 

The swamp spins around in Harold’s weak and tired eyes. He struggles to keep them open, knowing that his captors could be on him at any moment. But the white noise grows louder in his ear until he feels like he could swim in it.

His eyelids grow heavier and heavier until he could no longer keep them open. He slumps down into the mud. His eyes, weakly and tired, glances up at the night sky one more time before his vision fades out and he slowly drifts off into unconsciousness…

#

When he woke up, Harold burrowed himself into the warm, soft sheets. _Where was he?_ He doesn’t remember anything in the facility feeling like this. He rubbed the remainders of sleep from his eyes and gazed out at the room he was in; hospital equipment surrounded him. There was a slumped over figured sitting in a chair by the wall.

Pain exploded in his head and side. He groaned, his head pushing further into the pillow he was laying on. He hears his heart monitor speed up and the warm air that was blowing into his nose went away.

“Hey, Harold…”

_John?_

The warm air returns as John puts the nasal cannula back into place gently. “You’re safe,” was all John said.

“How did…” Harold started, his brow furrowed. He felt a tug on his consciousness.

“Don’t worry about it… You’re here now… You’re home.”

Harold breathed a sigh of relief and swallowed hard. “Okay… good…”  he murmured as his eyelids started to get heavy again, drifting off into a slumber.


End file.
